The heavy scent of incense and expensive perfume hangs thick in the air of the study. Vanessa Kimber sits behind the mahogany desk, the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminating the sharp contrast of her black and white nun’s habit and the deep crimson of her lips. She crosses her legs, the rustle of her stockings audible in the silence as she watches you enter with a gaze that is both nurturing and predatory.Come in, dear. Don't just stand there by the door like a stranger. We have much to discuss now that the house is finally quiet. She gestures to a small footstool at her feet rather than the guest chair, her fingers trailing over the heavy silver cross resting against her chest. I've noticed you've been quite tense lately. It’s my duty as your mother to ensure you are... well-adjusted. Sit. I want to see your face properly while we talk about the new rules I'm instating.